


All The Ages Of The World Alone

by Ravenclaw_Peredhel



Series: Middle-Earth One-Shots [14]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aegnor and Andreth love each other, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst and Tragedy, Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth, Character Death, Depression, F/M, Falling In Love, First Age, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, I ship them, In that Aegnor stays with Andreth, Male-Female Friendship, They are my favourite canon couple, True Love, Until she dies, slightly AU, so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27592457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenclaw_Peredhel/pseuds/Ravenclaw_Peredhel
Summary: People sing of Beren and Luthien, speaking of them as having the most powerful love ever to grace the world. But Aegnor and Andreth loved each other no less, though they changed the course of the world not at all.When Andreth died, a part of Aegnor died as well, lost forever beyond the circles of the world. And he was no Luthien to join his love and be sundered from Arda. He had to endure the long Ages of the world. Alone.
Relationships: Aegnor | Ambaráto & Finrod Felagund | Findaráto, Aegnor | Ambaráto & Galadriel | Artanis, Aegnor | Ambaráto/Andreth | Saelind, Andreth | Saelind & Finrod Felagund | Findaráto, Beren Erchamion & Finrod Felagund | Findaráto, Beren Erchamion/Lúthien Tinúviel
Series: Middle-Earth One-Shots [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2092071
Comments: 11
Kudos: 35





	All The Ages Of The World Alone

The first time he sees her, he thinks she is one of the Maiar. Perhaps one of Ulmo's servants visiting a favoured spring. Long hair, the same colour as the wood of the trees around them, falls loose from her shoulders and pools on the ground around her. Eyes like the river she kneels by look up at him, startled and a little frightened. It is the eyes that make him realise she is an Atani, young and old in a way no immortal could manage. She cannot be more than a score of years, and yet there is something about her that draws her to him. Some fire that the Eldar have not.

It frightens him a little, how brief the lives of the Atani are, but how powerful. They leave as much impact as the Quendi, but they die within a century, considering themselves ancient if they live to be of age by Elven reckoning. He used to pity them. Now he is almost in awe of them, of their blithe acceptance of death. Could he live so, could he live so recklessly if he too had an hourglass with a pinch of sand, had no guarantee of what lay beyond? He doesn't think so, and he honours the Atani rather than despises them now that he knows more of them. 

It isn't wise. It makes no sense. Why would he love one of the Atani who die sooner than trees? They are brave, but they are brief as well. No Atani is worth the coming heartache.

He tells himself all of this, and yet he cannot help going back, to see her one more time.

He loves her. He knows he shouldn't.

***********

She thinks he is one of the Gods they tell her of when he appears so suddenly, so beautiful. His hair shines in the Sun as though it is made of gold, and his face shines too, with a light made of silver and gold and something she can only call power. But it is his eyes that draw her in, deep and blue, like the Sea the elves speak of. 

She does not know that he is a prince. Not until another shining figure rides up to him and addresses him so. He begs her to forget his title, for he is but the fourth son of a third son, and his title is empty. She does not know why, but she agrees.

He comes back time and time again, a shining golden figure, but strangely real. She does not know why. After all, she is but another daughter of the House of Bëor - a House of the Atani not the Quendi. She is not particularly fair nor strong, but still he returns. 

It is not wise. It makes no sense. Why would she love one of the Elves, a Prince of the High Elves no less? She who is small and meek and plain, her only value in her mind. She is only setting herself up for loss when he leaves her, when she grows old.

But still, when he returns again, she runs out to meet him, and when she sees his face, fairer than any human’s, light up when he sees her, it is worth it.

She loves him. Even though it will bring only pain.

*****************

Finrod is always curious. It is what led him to find Nargothrond after all. It is what led him to follow his Uncle Fingolfin across the Grinding Ice even after Fëanor burnt the boats and his own father turned away. Admittedly, it sometimes leads him into trouble, but it does often help him.   
Which is why, when he notices Aegnor sneaking out so often, every other week it seems, he follows him. After all, Aegnor is the dreamy one, the timeless one. He is the one who forgets to eat, who cannot remember what month it is. Aegnor does not count time as the Atani do. It does not matter to him, for he has eternity to live.   
So why is time suddenly so important? Why does he check the sun dial so often?   
Finrod cannot abide a mystery when it is within his ability to solve it, so one day he follows Aegnor.

He is not sure what he expects, but it is not to follow Aegnor deep into the forest, to the Aeluin, near the Atani settlement. An Atani maid is standing in the river, laughing as she runs through it and the spray flies up. She is pretty, Finrod supposes, in the way of the Atani, brief and vivid and all too soon gone. He wonders if Aegnor will leave or ask her to leave. It never occurs to him that she is why Aegnor is here.

Until Aegnor swings down and pulls off his boots, running into the water. The Atani maid runs to meet him, her face suddenly shining with joy, transforming her into quite a beauty. Finrod stares. What is going on? Aegnor laughs as he lifts the strange girl in the air effortlessly, twirling around with her until her loses his footing on the rocks and falls in with a shout of laughter echoed by the Atani.

They come up for air, faces shining with delight, locked in a passionate kiss. Finrod slips away, intending to confront his brother later. When he does, he finds Andreth intriguing, and she becomes as another sister to him. For a while. 

***************

Aegnor loves Andreth. He knows that. But when he looks at her, and sees the changes that happen to her so quickly, he wishes he didn't. Why does he love a mortal, who will die? He wishes she were of the Elder people, that he would not lose her. Or that he was of the Atani. Anything, to avoid what he knows is coming. 

She isn't as young as she was, though she is just as beautiful. Already half a score of years have passed, and he has never been so aware of the passage of time. Sometimes he wonders why he loves her so strongly and so much, when it can only lead to grief. Then Finrod teases him about being besotted, or Andreth smiles, and he knows why. There is something about her, something wild and free and utterly Andreth.

He loves her. And that will have to be enough after her death. 

*************

Andreth loves Aegnor. She knows that. But when she sees his pain when he sees the changes that time has wrought. And when she sees the pain she brings him, she wishes she didn't love him. 

That he were Atani or she Quendi, that they might live together without the impending loss that is so much greater for him. If her were Atani, he would be grey with how much he worries for her.

She loves him. So much. Sometimes she wishes she had the strength to end their relationship, to put an end to their open acknowledgement of their love, but she doesn't. She is weak. But whenever she steels herself to end it, Finrod teases her about his brother, or Aegnor smiles and she forgets for a little while.

She loves him. But she does not know if that is enough.

************

Finrod loves his brother. If he loved him more, or is it less, he would somehow end the relationship between Aegnor and Andreth. Their love will only bring them pain. He used to worry for Aegnor, for the pain that losing his Atani lover would cause him. Why could Aegnor not have loved one of his own people? Even an Avari would have been preferable to an Atani, who would die with no hope of returning and leave Aegnor alone. He worries for Aegnor, for what will happen after Andreth's death.

Andreth worries him as well. She is so frail, so reckless. Whenever she is hurt or ill, his heart catches because he can see the terror that races across Aegnor's face. Once he worried for her only for Aegnor. But he worries for her too now. He loves her as well, in his own fashion. She is like Artanis, brave and bold, and he finds it easy to accept her, not in the place of Artanis, but as another sister. If only Andreth could live. Yet every day sees another change in her, and he sees the guilt that ripples through her when she Aegnor's pain at her decay. And he aches for the both of them.

He used to worry only for Aegnor. But now he worries for Andreth too. And it hurts him as well. Because he does not want to lose a brother and a sister at once. And he cannot avoid it.

******************

Aegnor is terrified. Andreth is no longer young. He knows that. But he does not realise it until he returns from a patrol and her hair is completely white. She is wrinkled and bent and _old_ and he has never been so afraid. She has barely four score years, and already she is dying. 

And he, he stays young and strong and he hates it. Hates his unchanging face, his youth and his power and his utter inability to change as his love does. 

In Aegnor's eyes, Andreth is as beautiful as the day that they met, if in another way. Saelind, her people call her now, 'Wise-heart'. And he wishes that he were one of them. He wishes he too could die.

He no longer fritters away weeks and years as he once did. He cannot. Andreth has perhaps half a score of years left, if that. He treasure every hour, every minute, every second, storing it up against the long dark.

Artanis, or Galadriel now, wrote to him a year ago. She told him to give up Andreth because she would cause him grief. Artanis does not understand. Artanis has never met Andreth. He could not leave Andreth, not now. If she were still young, able to find a caring husband and to have a life full and happy, he would. It would destroy him, but it might save her. And it would be worth it. But now she is old, frail and ill. She needs him, needs his care. What does it matter to Aegnor that they cannot dance in the Aerluin anymore, if he has Andreth. But he will not for much longer. And it makes him so afraid. He is a coward.

He loves her, and that is enough. It has to be.

**************

Andreth is tired. She has outlived her parents and her brothers and sisters. Her nieces and nephews are men and women grown, many with their own grandchildren born already. She has lived four score of years, and she is ready to move on.

But Aegnor. 

He loves her. And when she dies, it will be as terrible for him as if she gave him to the Dark One. So she clings to life, for Aegnor. 

Perhaps it is wrong. She ought to go soon. Andreth is old. Her hair is whiter than the cloth of Finrod's cloak and her skin more wrinkled than a walnut. She has aches and pains on wet days and cannot walk or run anywhere fast anymore. 

It hurts Aegnor she knows, to see her old and bent and aching, and to be young and tall and hale still. It hurts him to realise that one day, she will be gone. She knows that. Once, if she had truly realised what would happen to her proud Aegnor once she was gone, she might have refused him, might have wed a man of her own kind, have spared Aegnor the pain of losing her. 

They should have seperated long ago, when she was still young and was fairer by far than she is now. His memory of her would have been bitter sweet, but not accompanied by the terrible ache of loss that she knows will. He will see her old and bent and tired, not young and proud and happy, and it might be vanity, but she wants him to remember her young. 

She wants to turn back time, to warn herself not to love him. It would hurt him less she knows. 

But she loves him. And that has to be enough.

************

Finrod loathes Andreth. He also hates Aegnor. But most of all he hates himself. 

Andreth is old, is dying. She can no longer run or walk, and Aegnor is more of a caretaker than a lover. He loves her still, and brings flowers and gifts and does all that he can for her. Finrod cannot understand how his brother can bear it. He himself is a coward, he knows that. He is scared, scared of Andreth's aging, and refusing to acknowledge it. Aegnor is so much braver than him, carrying on and making Andreth's last days as easy as possible.

Finrod's foresight is playing up. He can see Andreth dying, sees it every night. He does not know if it is his nightmares or his foresight. No matter which it is, it destroys Aegnor. 

He is jealous of his brother and the Atani who would be his sister by marriage were they not at war. He does not understand how they can go on. 

*****************

Andreth's death is sudden. She woke up with a fever in the morning, and by the evening she was dead.

Aegnor cannot hear anything Finrod is saying. He cannot feel anything. Only the weight of Andreth's hand in his, already cooling and stiffening. Only her last words to him ring in his ears. "I love you. Remember me young. I love you. Remember me young." On and on they circle through his head, deafening him. 

He cannot quite comprehend what has happened. Andreth...Andreth...Andreth. He wants Andreth, he wants to run to her and kiss her and laugh with her, but he cannot, for Andreth is lying on the bed, old and dead. And gone.

He does not quite realise what is happening for a while. His vision clears, and he is in his rooms at Nargothrond, unused for a score of years or more. It is filled with memories of Andreth. Even lying face down on his bed does not help, for the silence and darkness merely make it easier for Andreth's dying face and words to float around his head. 

She is gone. Andreth is gone. Not like the elves, waiting in the Halls, some to be reborn. Andreth is of the Firimar, who live for but a little in a blaze of life and glory and then wither away in a single night. Andreth is beautiful and full of life and hope amd laughter, but he will never see her again. Her people burned her body, and her soul is beyond his reach.

He is alone. Andreth is gone. He is alone. 

******************

His death is as sudden as his Andreth's, a flash of fire and pain, and then blissful nothingness. 

The Halls are dark and quiet, and he grieves alone, refusing comfort, refusing to speak. How can he explain his love for Andreth? He will wait for Finrod, let Finrod explain. Finrod is good with words.

He does not speak, because then he will mention Andreth. He prefers to be alone with his memories, reliving the beautiful moments of Andreth's life. The song floats through the Halls, and it makes him think of Andreth's death. It is a long time before Finrod finds him once more. 

Someone tells him of Beren and Luthien. Aegnor laughs and laughs and laughs, and then, when he has laughed all he can, he cries. Beren and Luthien crossed the circles of the world together. They can be reunited in death. They have a lifetime together, and then beyond the world. They can be together, they do not have the pain of watching the one you love grow old, while you stay young and beautiful. How can they understand? Finrod alone understands, a little, and Finrod too mourns. But Finrod mourns for a sister. Finrod does not understand. Not really. No one understands.

He is alone. 

No one sees Aegnor again. He hides away in a corner, remembering Andreth. Because Andreth was his strength. Without her, he cannot face all the ages of the world, not alone. He spent one lifetime with Andreth, and now, he must pay his price. 

Aegnor is alone. And Andreth is gone. 

_"I would rather spend one lifetime with you, than face all the ages of this world alone." ~ Arwen Undomiel_


End file.
